


under pressure

by sinpops



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Work, massage therapist keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinpops/pseuds/sinpops
Summary: Shiro goes in to get a massage. He gets that and much, much more.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82





	under pressure

**Author's Note:**

> content warning for some dubious consent, in that shiro doesn't exactly know what he's getting into until it's happening but keith thinks he's completely on board.  
> shiro is into it, though. very into it.

Shiro fidgets on the plush black couch in the waiting room of the massage parlor. He feels underdressed for a massage. Before this, he didn’t think you could even be underdressed for a massage.

But this waiting room, with its dark red, gold-gilded walls and mahogany furniture, makes Shiro’s dark grey henley and blue-black jeans stick out like a bad stain.

He blames Matt for this. Shiro had just mentioned, off-hand, that he hadn't felt relaxed in over five years, and Matt had immediately shoved a voucher to this massage parlor in Shiro's hand, promising Shiro the relaxation of his life and not really explaining anything else.

Shiro probably should have looked deeper into it, but he saw _free_ and five stars on Yelp and that was enough for him. At the time. He's reconsidering this decision now.

The door to the back opens, and a man wearing a blazer and dress pants steps out.

Yeah, Shiro’s leaving.

He stands from the couch, and that's when a soft, low voice says, “Shiro?”

Blazer man has left, but someone's still standing at the door, dressed in all black and with a soft, slightly confused smile on his face.

“Keith!” Shiro hurries to him. “Wow, it's been so long!”

And Keith has gotten so tall. And hot. He's definitely not the puppy-eyed teenager he was when Shiro left town, years ago.

“Yeah, it has.” Keith smiles and puts his hand on Shiro’s elbow. If he notices the hardness of metal, he doesn't say anything. “Come on back with me?”

“Oh—yeah.” Shiro follows Keith down the dimly-lit hallway into an equally dimly-lit room with a chair in the corner and a massage table covered with a blanket in the middle.

“So you work here?” Shiro says after Keith’s shut the door. “Wait, sorry, silly question.”

Keith smiles. “You're fine. I've been here a couple years now. I didn't realize you were in Arus.”

“Just transferred last month,” Shiro says. “Haven't really caught up with anyone yet.”

He's kind of ashamed that he didn't think to get in touch with Keith right away, but he wasn't totally sure Keith would still be in Arus anyway.

It really has been a long time since he and Keith have spoken. He's not even sure what happened—they didn't really fall out, or anything. At some point, the space between their conversations just drifted from days to weeks to months.

Many, many months.

“So, definitely your first time here,” Keith says. “Since you used the free voucher, we were just matched based on my schedule, but if you prefer someone else, we can reschedule for free.”

Shiro frowns. Why would he want to reschedule? And then he remembers—right, massage. Him, naked. Keith, touching him. While he's naked. His cock stirs attentively, and Shiro fidgets. Maybe it is best if he were to ask someone else, but given the choice between Keith and a stranger seeing him naked...

“I'm comfortable if you are,” Shiro says.

Keith's gaze seems to darken, but his smile is soft. “Fine with me,” he says, and his voice sounds lower.

Shiro swallows and tries to get the horny part of his brain to calm down before he springs a boner on the massage table. He gets a blanket, sure, but it's not going to cover _that_ up.

“So the voucher your friend gave you is for the two-hour deluxe package,” Keith says. “You got all the details on that when you signed the forms at the front desk, right?”

“Yep,” Shiro lies. He hadn’t really been paying attention, but he's sure it's pretty standard for a massage. Deluxe probably means he'll end up with oils or hot stones or something.

“Great.” Keith looks him over, a quick sweep of his gaze that makes Shiro warm. “You can leave your clothes on the chair over there and lay facedown in the bed. I'll be back in a few minutes. Everything off, okay?”

He leaves, as promised, and Shiro makes quick work of his clothes. The prospect of Keith touching him is becoming ever more real, and Shiro’s glad he's starting facedown because he definitely has something to hide now.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door, and Keith comes back in the room. “Anywhere bothering you in particular?”

“Shoulders, probably,” Shiro mumbles through the hole in the table. “But also probably everything.”

“That's all right,” Keith says. “I'll start gentle, and just tell me if you need it harder, okay?”

Shiro swallows. “Yeah. Sure.”

He hears the click of a plastic cap, and Keith’s hands rubbing together. Lotion? And then Keith's hands are over his back, warm and frictionless.

Keith is good.

Keith is very good.

Shiro feels a little mindless with the way Keith coaxes tension from his muscles, and he lets out a soft, muffled moan when Keith reaches a good spot underneath his shoulders.

“You can make more noises if you want,” Keith says, sounding a bit amused. “I'd be flattered.”

“Good to kno—ah,” Shiro groans. “Fuck, you're really good at this.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, the amusement rich in his tone now. “I've been working on it.”

Shiro makes a vague noise of agreement as Keith attacks his shoulders again, and goes back into his fuzzy, drifting mental state as Keith moves lower. His lower back and hips are surprisingly tight, but somehow not moreso than his ass.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” he groans as Keith digs into a particularly painful spot on the corner of his cheek.

Keith swats his ass lightly, and Shiro’s cock nearly propels him off the table. “Relax.”

“I am trying,” Shiro huffs, clenching his hands in the hope that it'll draw blood away from down below.

Keith keeps working on him, and eventually the pain does give way and Shiro’s ass feels marginally less clenched.

The lotion bottle clicks again, and when Keith’s hands return, there are fingers at his hole.

Shiro jolts.

“Sorry,” Keith says, his other hand pressing between Shiro’s shoulderblades to still him. “It's always a little cold.”

“It's fine,” Shiro says faintly as Keith’s fingers press at and then dip past his rim. This is a thing that's happening. That is supposed to be happening.

Shiro possibly should have been paying attention.

But then he definitely wouldn't be laying facedown on a table getting fingerfucked by Keith, so he's not actually sure he's complaining about the situation.

Still, warning might have been nice.

Keith's fingers are practiced and sure as they move in him, a slow and steady fuck. His other hand is gently soothing on Shiro’s upper back. “Faster or slower?”

“This is good,” Shiro breathes, and he feels sluggish, dazed.

At some point, Keith finds his prostate and massages there gently, and Shiro exhales until he doesn't have any air left.

“Breathe,” Keith murmurs, and Shiro obeys, inhaling and exhaling to Keith’s steady rhythm until he feels like goo against the table.

“Good,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro tries not to make a sound as Keith’s fingers withdraw, but it's hard when he feels himself desperately clenching around nothing.

Something small and warm and hard touches his hole and presses in. Shiro inhales, exhales, and then it starts buzzing, low and faint but enough to make his skin tingle.

Keith sets a remote by his head. “In case you need it,” he says. “Turn over for me?”

And look Keith in the eyes?

Shiro steels himself and then hauls himself over. The vibrator inside him feels somehow more now that he's laying on his back, and it's with some embarrassment that Shiro sees the tent in the blanket.

Keith does a good job of ignoring it—probably because it's expected—and gets to work on the muscles by Shiro’s pecs, and arm, and hand, and neck.

Shiro closes his eyes and lets himself feel it. Feel everything. The vibrations inside him are a pleasant background to the pain, and whenever Keith releases a part of his body back to the table, Shiro feels himself melting more and more into it.

“Good?” Keith murmurs from close by.

Shiro opens his eyes to find Keith’s face next to his. He swallows. “Yeah.”

“I'm going to turn it up a bit,” Keith says.

Shiro's breath hitches as the vibrations increase in intensity. Fuck, he wants more of it. He wants more in general.

Keith’s putting lotion on his hands again, and this time when he puts them on Shiro’s chest, he sweeps his thumbs over Shiro's nipples.

Shiro bites his lip as his toes curl. He's very aware of how Keith’s watching him, eyes intent as they always are when he's fixated on solving a problem. This time, the problem is Shiro, and specifically how Keith can touch his nipples to make him squirm and throw his head back in a broken gasp.

“It's okay, Shiro,” Keith says in that low, too-gentle, too-Keith voice of his. “You can relax.”

“Fuck,” Shiro whispers. Keith rubs his nipples, hard, and he keens softly. “Fuck, Keith, I need—“

Keith turns up the vibrations higher and Shiro keens again, louder.

Keith hushes him. “It's been a while, right? It's okay, Shiro, I've got you.”

Keith tugs the blanket off him. One of Keith’s hands drifts down to his abs, pressing him against the table, and the other wraps around his cock, hot and sure.

Shiro watches his own chest heave as Keith pumps him quickly in a firm fist, and then he's gone, throwing his head back against the table and crying out as he feels his come splatter over his abs.

Keith pumps him just to the edge of discomfort, and then he lets go and turns off the vibrator, leaving Shiro a limp and heaving mess on the table.

“You did good,” Keith says soothingly. A cool, rough towel rubs over the mess on Shiro’s stomach, and then the blanket is pulled back over him. “How are you feeling?”

Shiro doesn't really know how to respond to that. He'd just come. Keith has just made him come. On a massage table. He throws his hands over his face. “Oh my god.”

“There's no point getting embarrassed now,” Keith says, amused.

Shiro peeks at him from between his fingers. Keith looks unruffled as he wipes his hands on a towel and tosses it into a bin.

All part of the job for him, huh.

Shiro can only hope that Keith doesn't look at all his customers with this much warmth and care. Keith makes him feel adored, the same way he always has.

Somehow, he can't stand the thought of Keith giving this to anyone else.

“You want me to get that for you?” Keith says, gesturing to his waist.

“What about you?” Shiro blurts.

Keith blinks at him. “What?”

Shiro sits up, the blanket falling to his waist. He delights in the way Keith’s eyes skim down his body. “You. Do you... want anything?”

“That's not really how this works,” Keith says, though he leans closer.

Shiro reaches up slowly, tucking a long strand of hair over Keith’s ear, and kisses him.

Keith kisses back for a long, heart-stopping moment.

And then Shiro makes the unwise choice to lower himself down on his elbows, and his right elbow mashes the remote that Keith left on the bedside, blasting the vibrator on high inside him.

Shiro squeals and collapses the rest of the way to the table, and Keith sounds torn between apology and amusement as he scrambles for the remote. “Shiro! Are you okay?”

Shiro can't answer until Keith has the damn thing off again, and then he just says, from his fetal position, “That could've gone better.”

Keith laughs quietly. “Let me get this out, okay?”

Shiro nurses his wounded dignity as Keith pulls out the vibrator. When he rolls over, Keith has a basket of towels and, presumably, the vibrator under his arm.

“I'll let you get dressed,” Keith says. “Do you want cold water or room temp?”

“Can I see you again?” Shiro says. “Outside of here, I mean. I really missed you, Keith. I'm sorry.”

Keith looks at him, considering, and then kisses him again. “My number’s the same,” he murmurs, and draws back. “I'll have the room temp ready for you. See you, Shiro.”

“Okay,” Shiro whispers, mind still chasing the feeling of Keith’s lips on his.

He leaves Keith with a $100 tip in the discreet red envelope left in the room, and just makes it inside his apartment before he finds the abandoned conversation between him and Keith and sends a message: _Dinner tomorrow?_

He leans against his door and waits there until Keith responds.

_Can’t wait ;)_


End file.
